


Crying Lightning

by Eviltish



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Het, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviltish/pseuds/Eviltish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is horny, January is shameless, Anne-Marie is awesome and James is, well, in the right place at the wrong time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crying Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to my lovely beta amy_vic for her awesomeness, and love for Anne. :) Any remaining mistakes are my own. Also worth noting that in this slightly AU verse Anne-Marie and James are divorced because I couldn't write it any other way. Because I ship them SO hard in RL.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is fiction, a product of my horny and fevered imagination. And if you arrived here by Googling yourself, I apologise but really, James, did you expect anything else?

It’s only the second or third time that they’ve done this on set. Usually January will get a text mid way through the day asking her if she’s free for dinner and then they’ll fuck in her hotel room before he makes his excuses and leaves.

Today is a little different.

She feels his hand on the small of her back as if from nowhere and he’s leaning close to her as he reaches to grab an apple from the craft services table in front of them. “I’ve checked the call sheets, there’s two hours between scene set ups from two,” his hand, low on her back, moves round slightly and squeezes her hip. She inhales quietly. “Want to run lines?”

She rolls her eyes at the cliché. And turns slightly in his half embrace. “If you want to fuck me, Michael, all you need to do is ask nicely.” She smiles, coldly.

He laughs and pulls away. She turns around to look at him properly. He’s grinning at her, and taking a large bite out of the apple.

She waits.

“Please,” he says, amusement dancing across his features.

She rolls her eyes again and walks away, pulling out her Blackberry as she goes. She taps out quickly:

 _Yes. You arrogant fuck. But you’d better make it worth it._

***

The trailer area is relatively quiet and they don’t encounter anyone on the way across. He’s got his hand on her lower back again and is plastered pleasingly to her side. He’s always been very attentive and that’s part of the reason she’s allowing this to happen now, at work, which is so very unprofessional.

“I bet you’ve been thinking about this all morning, haven’t you, you dirty little bitch.”

His lips are closer to her ear than she’d realised, and she flinches slightly from the surprise.

“I wonder what naughty things you’ve been imagining I’m going to do to you; how I’m going to make it worth your while, hmm?”

She chooses to stay silent. It’s part of the game, sure, but she’s also not confident that her voice wouldn’t crack if she answered. And there’s no fucking way she’s giving him that kind of satisfaction.

They’re close to the trailer now, and there’s no sign of anyone else. So he pulls her close to him and spins her to back her up against the side.

“I think we’ll start off slowly today,” he whispers, face close and lips brushing her cheek, “I’m going to slide my hand up and under that tiny little skirt of yours and see just how much you want this.”

And his hand is moving gently, ghosting the outside of her leg, and then up and round between her thighs. He takes his sweet time trailing his fingers carefully up and seems intent on watching her reactions.

She bites her lip. And then can’t help but smile when his eyes go wide and dark as he discovers she’s not wearing any underwear. His other hand moves to grab at the back of her head and she’s pulled into a filthy kiss.

“Jesus fuck, Jones,” he laughs breathlessly, the hand between her legs moving in slow circles against her clit. She widens her stance slightly, and he takes the hint, sliding two fingers roughly up and into her. She can’t help it, her hips tip forward slightly and she closes her eyes, stifling the moan that’s threatening to overtake her.

“Oh,” he hisses, “you dirty little slut, look at you.” And his fingers are moving now, sliding in and out of her while his thumb circles her clit. He’s not gentle, but then, she doesn’t want it gentle. It’s why she loves fucking around with him, he’s attentive. He _learns._

“Tight, wet cunt just begging to be fucked. Just desperate to come on my fingers, on my face, on my cock.”

And she is. Oh God, so desperate, close so quickly and they’re still outside. Still braced against the trailer, and anyone could see.

“So take me inside and fuck me, then,” she says, her hands moving up to grip his biceps tightly. “Or are you just going to tease me? Because this is getting kind of boring now.”

She smirks at him. Clenching her thighs together slightly to get him to move.

“Bitch,” he laughs but removes his hand anyway.

“And?” she shoots back, with a smirk.

Then, clearly realising that he’s going to have to open the trailer door somehow, he sucks his fingers into his mouth and gives her a playful look. “I think I’m going to make you come on my face first, and then I’m going to fuck you.”

She shoves at him slightly, and pulls the keys from him, mainly to distract from the flush that she can feel flooding her face. Fucking arrogant dick.

The door opens outwards, and he’s pushing her up the small metal stairs, hands roaming up and under her skirt until he’s got her turned round and pushed up against the wall just inside. He gropes blindly behind him for the handle and pulls the door shut. The trailer is dark inside, but apparently he’s too intent on getting his hands on her hips and his tongue in her mouth to do anything about it.

It’s why neither of them notice the shocked figure sitting on the couch across the room until it’s too late.

***

James has checked the call sheets and there’s a lovely window of a couple of hours between set ups that’s just begging to be filled with a shower and then a chat with Fassbender about the next couple of days of filming.

He considers texting Michael to check that he’ll be in his trailer but thinks better of it. After all, that’s why they had each other’s spare keys. The invitation had been implicit. And then explicit when James had offered a token note of protest. “But what if you’re,” here he’d flapped his hand in a vague manner, hoping to confer the ‘alone time’ without having to say it.

“What,” Michael had responded, a slightly bemused expression on his face. “Conducting an orchestra, handing out leaflets, doing card tricks? What?”

James had rolled his eyes. “I meant, you know, having some ‘alone time’.” He’d followed it up with what he’d hoped was a meaningful look, which had stopped just short of an actual wink. Although, Michael had still ribbed him mercilessly about it afterwards.

Michael had had a brief moment where James could swear that the words ‘what the actual fuck’ were passing through his head, and then the penny had clearly dropped.

The resulting bellow of laughter had drawn a lot of attention. And the slight embarrassment that James had felt was totally worth the ridiculous giggling fit that Michael had descended into and that took a full three minutes to subside. There had been actual tears of laughter. James hadn’t been sure if he was mortified beyond belief or actually kind of impressed with himself.

When Michael had composed himself enough to speak without the giggles starting again, he’d pulled James into an almighty hug (which hadn’t felt at all like a cuddle, oh no, nothing like that at all) and had said, almost directly into his ear, a note of seriousness in his voice, “If at any point, as a lonely single man, I feel the overwhelming desire to take myself in hand because I can’t control it anymore then,” and he’d pulled away and looked James square in the eye, “I faithfully promise, as your friend, to...” and there had been _that_ bloody grin of his threatening to break out, “send you a fucking text saying ‘don’t come over, I’m wanking’!”

He’d started giggling again. James had rolled his eyes so hard it had actually hurt. “James, I love you but you are a complete tit sometimes.”

And there’d been no text message today.

Which is to say that there had, on occasion, been text messages but James was 99% certain they’d been wind ups. Especially when combined with comments like:

 _The way you looked in that flight suit today, God JAMES. PLEASE DON’T COME OVER NOW I’M WANKING. I DON’T WANT YOU TO SEE MY SHAME!_

Or:

 _JAMES. Your eyes, fuck, your EYES. They’re so beautiful. The loneliness is too much. DON’T COME OVER NOW I’M WANKING. THINKING ABOUT YOU. AND YOUR EYES!_

Yeah, fucking hilarious.

He’d finished up earlier than expected and grabbed a bite to eat with Jennifer in the catering area. As Michael wasn’t due back till 2pm, he decided to head straight over to the trailer park, grab his script notes and wait for him.

He let himself in. The trailer was dark, but the quiet was quite welcome. He checked his watch; he had half an hour or so till Michael got back. Maybe time to put his head back and relax for a minute.

***

It’s the trailer door opening that wakes him, and he pulls himself upright on the couch, shocked at just how easy it was to drop off. He just has time to stretch and yawn before the clatter of feet up and into the trailer draws his attention back to the door.

The door, and the woman who is definitely _not_ Michael, and who definitely is being manhandled _by_ Michael round and up against the wall.

The woman (January, he can see now) whose skirt has been pushed up to her waist. And who isn’t wearing any underwear.

Nothing.

Not a thing.

And who is now spreading her legs and kissing Michael like she’s trying to eat his fucking soul.

Well. Shit.

This is awkward.

And James is just about to stand up and make his presence known, and apologise like the world is ending and get the fuck out of there when...

“Jesus fuck, you filthy little slut. Let me – I want to – oh God, that’s it. So wet for me, aren’t you? Greedy wet cunt, so tight. You’re going to come so hard on my face, aren’t you baby?”

And Christ, Michael’s voice is pure filth. And January is moaning against him, and it’s his _hand_ that’s moving, between her legs, with a practised ease that suggests this isn’t just a onetime thing.

 _And oh GOD, why is he still here. Still watching? Fuck._

He has to get up, quickly. They’re distracted, it was a mistake, Michael will understand. And he’s moving to stand when:

“God, you – no, stop a minute, we need to move - Michael, I said stop, I need to...”

And that’s the light.

Fuck.

***

Give her her dues, January doesn’t scream. In fact, she doesn’t make a sound, which is sort of what clues him in. That and the fact that her thighs have locked tightly around his hand and she’s gone completely still.

“Whu-,” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“Darling, it appears we have company,” she says quietly. “Hello, James.”

So Michael turns slightly, and oh yes, there’s McAvoy. Face red as a post box and eyes blown wide in shock.

It’s not a bad look on him actually. In fact, with January’s thighs tight against his hand, her gorgeous cunt clenched around his fingers, and James’ eyes tracking the way he’s still circling her clit with his thumb, Michael’s cock is definitely very appreciative of the flush on James’ cheeks.

Michael feels himself grin. “Hello, James,” he says, and James’ gaze snaps up from where he’s been watching Michael’s hand. Shock still clearly keeping him in silence.

And then James bites his lip. Fucking _pulls_ his ridiculous, gorgeous lower lip between his teeth. And Michael is entranced.

He stays January’s hand where she’s been trying to stop his still moving fingers. But keeps eye contact with James. “Enjoying the view, darling?”

And James, because he’s fucking _James_ looks away for a second, seems to shake himself, and looks back, starting to move toward the door.

He’s averting his eyes now.

“January, my apologies, please forgive the intrusion.” And he fucking _mime_ s doffing his cap to her as he gets to the door. “I’ll leave you in peace.”

And then he’s gone.

And Michael is harder than he’s been in _years_.

And January has an infuriatingly smug look on her face.

Bollocks.

***

January has always prided herself on being a pragmatic fuck. She’s not fussy on gender, or on hair colour, ethnicity, height – any of that stuff. She just wants to get off, and to have fun while doing it.

Hooking up with Michael has been fun. He’s easy company and not clingy. Plus he’s a fabulously enthusiastic fuck which is always a bonus. And he takes direction. She’d called him arrogant earlier but the truth is he listens and hasn’t ever presumed to know what she wanted.

And because of all of this she takes a small amount of pity in him.

He’s clearly a little off guard after their surprise guest, and January isn’t one to miss an opportunity like this.

She pushes him gently away from her and walks him back to the couch. Pushing him down into a sitting position and moving to straddle him, feeling the hard length of him through his pants against her, and takes a moment to rock gently against him.

His eyes slide shut, and he sighs, pulling her close and burying his face in her neck.

She knows she’s pushing it but she also guesses that he might need this. “You want to fuck him, don’t you?”

And she’s pressed so tightly to him that she can feel his cock twitch against her.

He sighs, clearly not angry. “Now is not the time, Jones.”

But she’s not giving up that easily. “I wonder if he would have stayed, if you’d have asked. Stayed and watched us fuck. Watch while you went down on me, sucked on my clit while fingering my pussy.” And she’s grinding down harder now on him, can feel herself slick and wet against him.

She buries her fingers in his hair, and pulls his head back, not gently, to kiss him with as much filthy intent as she can. He may be angsting over this but she is still going to get off, goddamnit.

She pulls back briefly, “God, I bet he was a hard as you are now. I bet he’s gone back to his trailer and he’s fucking – God – fucking stroking himself off, thinking about it, about what we’re doing in here. He’ll be fucking his hand and imagining us like this, my pussy wet and tight and your cock sliding into me. Jesus, fuck – “and they’re rutting against each other now, and he’s groaning under her, and pulling her down for another dirty kiss.

“Shut the fuck up, Jones.” His eyes are blazing at her, and he’s angry but clearly very turned on. She leans down again and bites his lip, sucks it into her mouth, and he’s lifting her up slightly, and she’s going to complain about the lack of contact but then she can feel his hand, the back of his hand against her as he’s popping open his pants and sliding down the zipper.

And then he’s pushing up against her pussy and she moves slightly, and God but his cock is glorious, she’s sliding down on to him and fuck.

She’s stupid and horny and he’s not wearing a condom and this is the most idiotic thing she’s ever done but GOD does it feel good. And he’s shifting them slightly, moving so he’s got more leverage with his feet, grabbing her hips so he can just fuck up into her.

And they’re still fully clothed, the feel of the material of his pants chafing against her thighs, and it feels rough and rushed and, in all honesty, fucking amazing.

She kisses him again, their tongues clashing and duelling and she bites at his lip, sucks on him as his movements become more urgent.

And it’s amazing but she needs more. She moves her hand and runs the pad of her thumb against his lips, and he gets the hint, sucking her thumb into his mouth, eyes boring into hers as she replaces her thumb with her fingers.

When they’re wet and his breathing has turned even more ragged, she moves her hand between them and starts rubbing at her clit. He pulls back slightly so he can see her, moves her skirt out of the way so he can watch her work herself as she grinds down to meet his thrusts.

“Would you fuck him like this, straddling you on this couch? Watch him jerk himself off while you fucked up into him?” And she’s panting now, voice cracking as the words force themselves out between them. “God, I bet he’s shameless in bed, face flushing, voice ragged – bet he’d beg you to fuck him, beg you and ride you and stroke himself off hard, come on you with his head thrown back and his throat bared to you.”

And she’s so close now, the mental image almost sending her over the edge. So fucking close.

“Yes, God, yes I’d fuck him like this. My cock hard inside him whilst he came all over me. Is that what you want to hear, you dirty bitch?” And it is because she’s coming. Pussy clenching tightly around him as the waves of pleasure over take her. The noise she makes is guttural, the orgasm feels like it’s being ripped from her core.

And then his hands are gripping her hips and he’s fucking up into her harder and harder and it’s too late, he comes buried deep inside her and well, she’ll have to worry about that tomorrow.

She can feel the dark flush of colour on her face as they come down together.

“Jesus wept, woman. What the fuck was that about?” And he’s clinging to her, panting into her neck and she’s too tired to move just yet.

But she pulls back slowly and drops a kiss onto his forehead before closing her eyes again. Holding him to her in a more affectionate way than they’ve ever indulged in before.

“That, my darling,” she sighs, “was your cue to sort this whatever it is out with McAvoy before it’s too late.”

She hoists herself up, gingerly, well aware that the mess of Michael’s stained pants is not the only thing she needs to be worrying about right now.

“And also, my cue to call this, albeit lovely, assignation to an end.”

She smiles kindly at him, and knows he won’t be upset by her honesty.

“What about,” and here he makes a complicated gesture which is clearly meant to indicate the lack of condom and, God, it hits her, how stupid is she again?

She shakes her head, and reassures him as best she can. She can deal with this, they’re both clean and she can get a pill and it will all be fine.

Because it will. Be fine, that is.

Because it’s not like she wants a baby so she’ll just get a pill, they have those here in the UK, right?

Because a baby would just be a foolish idea. Especially given where she is in her career.

Yes. Foolish idea. Easily solved.

And she goes to clean up.

***

James’ immediate reaction to accidentally witnessing his co-stars fucking, aside from being ridiculously turned on, is to call his ex-wife.

He gets her voicemail.

“Of all the bloody days to not answer your bloody phone. Anne, I need you, where are you? I’m having a crisis and I’m sure it’s part of that ridiculously generous, by the way, divorce settlement that you still have to deal with me being a twat and give me slightly patronising advice whilst laughing at my misfortune. Call me back, wench. Love you.”

He makes it to his trailer without incident. But his head is fucking spinning. And Jesus, he’s _hard_.

He’s self aware enough to know that, as gorgeous as JJ is this isn’t anything to do with her.

Because it’s not January that he’s been engaged in a months-long dance of friendship, innuendo, and flirtation.

And he’s not stupid – they’ve talked together at length about how they want to portray Charles and Erik’s relationship – how to make it believable that two men could become so close in such a short space of time. And James is convinced, and invested in Charles being _in love_ with Erik. But he realises that he’s been being very naive – because the conversations they’ve been having? The touches, jokes, shared looks? It’s not all been about Charles and Erik. Not for a while now.

Shit.

And the way Michael had looked at him, assessing, predatory. God. Inviting.

Yeah, James knows he’s fucked now.

He leans back against the wall in his trailer and rubs his face. He’s still hard, and realises in horror, mimicking January’s position in Michael’s trailer. He bites his lip. Remembering the look on Michael’s face when their eyes met.

And he can’t not. Not now he’s realised. Not now he’s _seen_ what Michael looks like when he’s...yeah.

And it’s just to relieve a little tension. His cock is straining against his trousers and, yeah, God, his hand feels good just rubbing there. Just cupping himself, he can even pretend that it’s not going to go any further. That he’s not going to, uh, yeah, open his trousers, pull down the zip, God, and – yeah, that’s it, pull out his cock. Because getting reflexively hard from seeing two gorgeous people mid-whatever is OK. Getting his cock in hand and, uhh, yeah, touching himself thinking about the look in Michael’s eyes when he’d looked at him, the heat there, looking at him, James, whilst he still had his fingers buried deep in January’s cunt –

And his hand is moving faster and it’s chafing, and he needs something, anything, wet –

And he’s not going to move, he’s too close, so it’s gross but it’ll have to do, he spits into his hand – and yeeessss. That’s it, just enough to make it better but not enough to completely take away the friction – and fuck he’s so close.

Which is, of course, when his phone rings.

***

January leaves quietly and with more grace than a woman who’d just been fucked on a couch should have. He spares a brief moment to think about her lack of underwear and his cock gives a half-hearted twitch.

She’s a filthy bitch and he’s going to miss her.

There’s the lingering doubt about the lack of condom but he has to trust her on this one. He’s a monumental idiot but these things happen. And she likes fucking too much.

His thoughts turn to James.

Beautiful, beautiful James.

He can’t leave this one be. Not like the flirting, the casual touches, and the myriad of things that have strung them close together in the last couple of months.

This has to be faced head on. Because January (gorgeous, dirty mouth of hers) was right, he does want James. Wants him very badly indeed.

And he’s not blind, James doesn’t care about January that much, he wasn’t staring because of her.

He may not be blind, but cowardly? Yes. He’s not going to be able to do this face to face.

And looking at the time, he’s only got 20 minutes of the break left.

He reaches into his trousers for his phone. In for a penny...

***

James pulls himself together enough to grab his phone and move to the couch. He puts it on speaker.

Anne’s voice comes through slightly tinny but he can still hear the smug amusement in it.

“James Andrew McAvoy having a crisis? Well this is a never before seen phenomenon.”

He hopes against hope that the underlying tension in his voice doesn’t betray too much. “Anne –“

There’s a pause, and then: “Jesus James, were you just wanking?”

“Yea, Gods, woman! You have no tact whatsoever do you?” And then because he’s a fucking idiot for her, “how the hell do you know these things?!”

There’s an audible scoff. “Because, darling boy, I’ve known you far too long. And your inability to keep it in your trousers is –“

“Anne – please.”

“Sorry, love, too soon?”

He sighs. “A little bit, Duff. A little.”

He broke her heart and she’s still his best friend. He remembers why he’d promised himself he’d stop calling her about these things. Because she’s too good a person to tell him to fuck off.

“I’m sorry, darling. We probably shouldn’t be talking about this. I didn’t mean to –“

She cuts him off. “James, if you need someone to talk to then I’m still here – I mean it. Tell me what’s going on.”

And so he does.

“So, wait, you’re telling me that you’ve seen January Jones naked? What’re her tits like? I bet they’re nowhere near as perfect as they look. But still a bit perky, right? God, what I wouldn’t give...”

“Oi, Duff – head in the game here please!”

“Sorry.” although she doesn’t even sound remotely apologetic.

“I haven’t seen _that_ half of her naked,” he hisses. And god, he’s kind of blushing now.

“OH! I see. Bloody hell. Well, I guess you have to hand it to them both - fucking on a film set. Hot but ridiculously clichéd.” And she actually sounds impressed by it.

“So back to _my_ crisis. How do I deal with this? I mean. Shit. How’ll I ever be able to look January in the eyes again?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, she’s probably not bothered. Just don’t mention to anyone that you know how she’s groomed and it’ll be fine.”

James tries not to choke on his tongue.

“Be honest, McAvoy, it’s Michael you really want to talk about, isn’t it?”

And there it was, the reason he wanted to talk to her, the reason he would always want to talk to her. She just KNEW stuff like that.

He tried for oblivious, and knew the moment he spoke that he’s missed by a mile, “It’s just awkward, I feel like I’ve invaded his privacy.”

Clearly Anne agreed. “You’re an idiot sometimes.”

“What?”

“I would try and put this in less crude terms but you’re either deliberately being obtuse or you’re assuming that I’m not amazing and intelligent and haven’t put two and two together to work out why you were knocking one out before I called.”

James makes a strangled noise in his throat.

There’s an audible frustrated sigh from Anne’s end, and what sounds suspiciously like something being banged against wood.

“He wants to fuck you, and you, apparently may want to fuck him.”

“-ngh”

But Anne is clearly getting impatient.

“Right, this is enough of my valuable time wasted your obliviousness for today. Don’t forget you’ve got Brendan this weekend – it’s Louise’s hen do.”

And with the perfunctory goodbyes, she’s gone.

Fuck.

It’s then that he notices the new text.

***

 _Where are you?_

 _  
**I’m so sorry.**   
_

_That’s not an answer – where are you?_

 _  
**My trailer. And I am sorry. Was waiting for you – had no idea you’d have company.**   
_

_Wasn’t a planned thing._

 _  
**Is JJ OK? I feel like I should buy her some flowers or something?**   
_

_She’s fine. You twat. Take more than someone catching a flash of under her skirt to upset her. She’s a naughty girl like that. :)_

 _  
**If I could roll my eyes by text... And it was a bit more than a flash.**   
_

_You didn’t seem to mind at the time._

 _  
**Don’t be a dick. I feel awful about it.**   
_

_Get over it, McAvoy. We need to talk._

-

 _And not about JJ._

 _  
**What about then?**   
_

_Us. Because there is an US, right? I’m not imagining this am I?_

The length of time before a reply arrives is almost heart breaking. And just as Michael’s about to give up and go get ready for the next scene, his phone beeps.

 _  
**No. You’re not imagining this. Fuck. Can we talk? Later?**   
_

_Yes. Yes. Dinner?_

 _  
**It’s a date.**   
_

Michael catches his own reflection in the mirror on the way to the shower. His smile is ridiculous.


End file.
